


Breezy

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dresses, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26057431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis and Prompto go clothes shopping.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 17
Kudos: 84





	Breezy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There’s something weirdly thrilling about thumbing through the racks of cheap, mismatched clothes like some _commoner_ , when he’s used to having everything specially designed and tailor-made for him. Ignis probably wouldn’t approve of this particular activity, but Noctis would like to think he’s old enough to pick out his own clothes. He resists the temptation to get an oversized Kenny Crow shirt and the even bigger urge to get too-small pajamas with bootleg red tonberry cartoons on them. He even finds a tanktop with a chocobo wearing a bra and big block letters proclaiming: ‘I’d choco-bone you.’ At least, he doesn’t but it for himself. That one’s already sitting by the register, just waiting to become Gladio’s next birthday gift.

Prompto seems to be doing marginally better—he’s parsing through the rack of discount spring-wear, several sleeveless shirts already slung over his arm. Noctis is in the ‘bottoms’ section, even though he’s only a bottom about forty percent of the time. He keeps trying to find shorts short enough to merit making Prompto try them on, but most things are either way too big or way too long or an ugly shade of barf-green. Then he finally comes across an absolutely teeny-tiny black piece with metal studs down the side, and he thinks ‘perfect.’ It’ll definitely cup Prompto’s sweet ass just right, and hopefully show off a bit in the front, too. There’s even a good chance that if he bends over—which Noctis will definitely make him do—a fair bit of ass-cheek will pop out, and that’s all Noctis really wants out of life. He takes the hanger off the rack, then wrinkles his nose in disappointment when he realizes it’s not shorts at all. It’s a mini-skirt. 

Noctis reaches to put it back, only for the disappointment to pass and logic to set in. There’s no real reason Prompto can’t wear it just because it’s not stapled in the middle. In fact, a miniskirt will show off even _more_ , because it’ll probably ride up his thighs or flip up in the breeze or give way to Noctis’ probing hands. In fact, with a skirt, they won’t even have to pause to take it off when Noctis inevitably loses control. 

He glances over at the back of Prompto’s blond head. Prompto’s started faintly humming his favourite chocobo jingle, and a weird rush of affection twists Noctis’ gut. He’s damn lucky, and he knows it. 

He just hopes he gets lucky. Soon. Maybe even in the change room soon, except Ignis will kill him if he gets blacklisted from another retail chain. Prompto pulls something out and stares at it, until Noctis says, “Hey?”

“Hm?” Prompto glances back at him. Noctis lifts the skirt high enough to be seen over the other clothes. One of the teenage girls clustered near the door makes a muffled squealing noise before rapidly whispering to her friends. Noctis ignores them as much as he has been since he first walked in—he’s used to getting recognized in public. At least the cashier slumped over behind the register doesn’t seem to care that the crown prince of Insomnia is rifling through her thrift shop. She’s idly tapping her phone while the girls hover just out of ‘shooing’ range and Noctis and Prompto stare at each other.

“Would you wear this for me?” Noctis could leave it at that, but Prompto tilts his head curiously, and Noctis plucks at the side to spread it out and show there’s no seam in the middle. Prompto’s cheeks stain pink, which only makes his freckles brighter. His adorableness intensifies. But Noctis loves him too much to put him on the spot, and when he fails to instantly agree, Noctis lowers it and mutters, “Never mind.”

“Well, I mean... I’m not saying _no_...”

“It’s okay, dude. Forget it.”

“Wanna do a deal?”

“Huh?”

Prompto holds up his current choice: a small black dress covered in glossy sequins—it sparkles in the light like a cheap drink and a good time. 

Noctis looks at the dress for half a second before deciding, “Sure.” Prompto lights up with a grin like it’s a huge deal, when Noctis really doesn’t care at all. Ignis might, but Ignis put him in a pinstripe suit with a giant, red-lined cape for the last royal banquet, so screw Ignis.

He resists the urge to screw Prompto and doesn’t usher them into the same changing room—instead, he politely lets Prompto walk to the first one, where they exchange hangers before Noctis steps into the second one. It’s ridiculously tight inside, a cracked mirror on one wall and a single peg on the other, with thin enough walls that he can hear Prompto rustling next door. Despite the warning sign taped to the mirror about a camera rolling, Noctis strips out of everything—jacket, shirt, pants, just leaves the boxers on. Then he’s pulling the dress over his head and fumbling it down—it’s tighter than the shirts he’s used to, and the stretchy fabric doesn’t help. But he gets it on eventually, and he tugs the hem around his thighs, examining his reflection in the mirror. 

Honestly, he just looks average. It doesn’t give him much shape, so he sort of looks like a super shiny box, but at least the high neckline and long sleeves complement his shoulders. Prompto’s voice calls through the wall, “Ready?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He pushes out, waits, and Prompto’s door opens—he steps awkwardly around the corner and gives Noctis a weak smile. Noctis’ eyes go straight down, to where the skirt’s resting comfortably along Prompto’s creamy thighs and rising up over the hump that lies between them. It barely covers anything. It goes well with Prompto’s plaid shirt. He looks absolutely _scrumptious_.

Noctis can feel his feral grin stretching wider and wider. When he finally manages to look back up at Prompto’s handsome face, he says, “We’re totally buying that.”

Prompto snorts and shoves Noctis’ arm. “You don’t look so bad yourself, bud.”

Noctis shrugs. “Then we’ll get this too, I guess.”

“Naw, you don’t have to—”

“No, s’fine. Worth it if it keeps you smiling like that.”

“ _Dude_.”

A flash goes off and prickles his eyes—Noctis blinks and looks towards the door, where the girls have all got their phones out and are clearly snapping pictures. At Noctis’ frown, they hurriedly withdraw and scamper out the door, excitedly showing each other their wares.

Prompto groans, “Sorry, man... think we can guess what’ll be in the tabloids tomorrow.”

Noctis jokes, “‘Local prince looks hella good in dress’?”

Prompto laughs out loud, rich and jovial—the exact sort of noise that Noctis loves him for. 

Shrugging, Noctis says more seriously, “At least everyone will know I bagged a super cute boyfriend.”

“Aw, _dude_!”

Prompto moves to punch his arm again, but Noctis grabs him by the wrist and pulls him over for a quick peck on the cheek—the most Noctis dares do in public. It doesn’t look like there’s anyone around to rat him out anymore—aside from the cashier who’s either incredibly invested in her phone or genuinely brain-dead—but he has to keep himself in check, lest they stain their current clothes without a bathroom nearby to wash up in. 

As he collects his discarded clothes from the change room, fully ready to walk out in Prompto’s pick, Noctis teases, “Now let’s see if they have a bikini section.”

It’s hard to say whether Prompto’s blush or laugh is louder—both are equally glorious. Noctis drags him to the counter to pay, beautiful legs out and all.


End file.
